Service with a Smile
by Anoveldebut
Summary: Cassie gives a lesson in the fine art of shopping. Cam is confused. Can be read as the sequel to Motorcycle Chemistry and Alien Influence, or can stand alone. Just a short, fun fic...


**Disclaimer: Another weekend at camp with an over-active imagination, and a sleepy little baby... And I still own nothing.**

 **Setting: Post series. Can be read as the sequel to Motorcycle Chemistry and Alien Influence, or can stand alone.**

 **A/N: This is a very silly, entirely pointless fic. Be forewarned.**

 **Feedback: Always welcome!**

* * *

 **Service with a Smile**

"Did you get it?," she asked, contorting herself to reach the last bolt on her bike. The thing lay in pieces throughout the garage, the eager young engineer preparing to retrofit and modify her ride. She'd just bought it the day before, proudly showing him her second-hand prize before tearing it to pieces today.

"Uh, no," Cam confessed chagrined as he crouched down beside her. "I couldn't find it anywhere, and I swear no one was working there. There wasn't anyone to ask."

Cassandra extracted herself, frowning. "They should have had it."

"I'm telling you, I looked everywhere. Went down every aisle. There was nothing, and no one."

Cassie sighed. "I guess I'll just have to get cleaned up and go myself," she groused.

"Hey, if you know another place I could go, I'll still gladly get it for you ," Cam replied, eager to earn brownie points with the woman who'd just moved across country to be closer to him. Not that her new job hadn't been a motivating factor as well. It was actually a pretty sweet deal...

"It's all right," she said, smiling placatingly. "You'll only have the same problem at the next place."

"And you won't?," he asked skeptically.

"No," she answered certainly, straightening up.

Baffled, Cam followed her inside, dutifully taking a seat to wait as she showered and changed. When she at last emerged, he was stunned speechless. There was no way _that_ was the outfit she'd chosen to go into a store that sold grease. Not the girl who had a specific outfit for every occasion. Seriously. Her wardrobe could fill his entire _room_...

"Come on," she said, breezing past him toward the door, gathering her purse and shoes on the way. Cam didn't move.

 _There was no way..._

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out the door, depositing him in the passenger seat of his own car. "Keys," she said from the driver's side, holding out her hand. Numbly, he complied.

 _Just no way._

Pulling into the store parking lot, Cassandra deftly extracted herself from the car. "Stay here," she commanded lightly, flouncing jauntily inside.

 _Like hell_ , he thought, following curiously behind.

Keeping a respectful distance, he pretended to browse, surreptitiously watching as the gorgeous young woman approached the nearest salesman.

"Hi," she greeted brightly, flashing him a radiant smile. The man, an older gentleman with decidedly grey hair and dull eyes, seemed to falter. Cam couldn't exactly blame him.

"I need a part for a motorcycle," she announced cheerily. "It's about this big," she explained, demonstrating with her newly manicured fingers, "and it has a funny little curve at the end."

The poor man gawked at her, obviously at a loss. Again, Cam couldn't blame him. What on Earth was she doing?

Another salesman approached, this one younger. "What type of motorcycle is it?," he asked, the befuddled older gentleman still trying to decide how to answer.

"A black one," she replied sweetly. "Here's a picture," she offered, handing him one from her purse.

"Oh, wow!," the young man gushed. "That model's a classic!"

Cassie shrugged. "Do _you_ know where I could find the funny little curved piece? It goes right here," she added, indicating the relative placement on her photograph.

"Oh!," the young man exclaimed, nodding emphatically. "Follow me."

Cassandra obligingly followed, Cam and the older salesman trailing uncertainly behind.

As they made their way to the back of the store, Cam couldn't help but notice every head in the place turn as the 5'11 beauty sauntered past, every delicious curve on optimal display in her simple white sundress.

If she'd been walking down a crowded street, Cam was almost certain she wouldn't have had the same impact. But the outfit, the act, it was all a calculated ploy to draw attention to herself _here_. She was out of place, a novelty for this kind of store. Yet Cam knew full well that she could teach any one of these yokels a thing or two about bikes.

The young salesman found the part in short order, tucked amongst a random assortment of bits and bobs Cam never would have had the patience to search. He was rewarded with another blinding smile for his efforts, Cassandra gratefully accepting the piece from his hand before making her way back through the store.

Every man in the place stared as she strode purposefully toward the checkout, paying quickly before making a graceful exit.

Cam was nothing short of impressed, if not a little jealous. They'd come to the same damn store he'd already been to, and she'd just walked out with the part he'd spent forty minutes looking for!

Rejoining her at the car, she grinned. "And _that_ , Cameron Mitchell, is how it's done," she announced proudly.

Cam chuckled low. "Well, then. From now on I guess you can get parts and tools for me as well," he drawled, blue eyes sparkling. "God knows I never get service like _that_."

She hummed happily, starting the car as he climbed in.

"Where'd you learn that trick, anyway?," he asked as they drove back to her place.

"Sam taught me," she laughed.

" _Our_ Sam?," he asked, incredulous. He couldn't quite imagine his fellow colonel dumbing it down for the layman. Not for anything.

"Of course," Cassie replied easily. "And if you think _I_ get results, you should see _her_ in action," she added archly. "She usually gets a discount, too!"

"I take it back," Cam answered, mildly disgruntled. "From now on I'll get you _and_ Sam to buy all my tools and parts."

"Dream on," Cassandra laughed.

Yeah, she probably had a point, he conceded.


End file.
